Bloodline Sidney Sheldon

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. Sam had known about this project Was that another reason he refused to sell the company?

“At the door Emil Joeppli turned to Elizabeth.

“It’s going to work on people!”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Of course it will.”

It had to.

 

 

“How is a Red Folder project handled?”

Kate Erling asked, “From the beginning?”

“From the beginning.”

“Well. As you know, we have several hundred new products in various experimental stages. They—”

“Who authorizes them?”

“Up to a certain amount of money, the heads of the different departments involved,” Kate Erling said.

“What amount of money?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

“And after that?”

“There must be board approval. Of course, a project does not come into the Red Folder catagory until it has passed its initial tests.”

“You mean until it looks like it has a chance of being successful?” Elizabeth asked.

“That’s right.”

“How is it protected?”

“If it’s an important project, all the work is transferred to one of our high-security laboratories. All the papers are removed from the general files and put into a Red Folder file. Only three people have access to that. The scientist in charge of the project, the president of the company, and one member of the board.”

“Who decides who that member will be?” Elizabeth asked.

“Your father selected Walther Gassner.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Kate realized her mistake.

The two women looked at each other, and Elizabeth said, “Thank you, Kate. That will be all.”

Elizabeth had made no mention of Joeppli’s project. Yet Kate had known what Elizabeth was talking about. There were two possibilities. Either Sam had trusted her and told her about Joeppli’s project, or she had learned about it on her own. For someone else.

This was too important to allow anything to go wrong. She would check on the security herself. And she had to speak to Walther Gassner. She reached for the telephone, then stopped. There was a better way.

Late that afternoon Elizabeth was on a commercial airliner to Berlin.

 

 

Walther Gassner was nervous.

They were seated at a corner booth in the upstairs dining room of the Papillon on the Kurfürsten-damm. Whenever Elizabeth had visited Berlin in the past, Walther had always insisted that Elizabeth have dinner at his home, with Anna and him. This time there had been no mention of that. He had suggested instead that they meet at this restaurant. And he had come without Anna.

Walther Gassner still had the clear-cut, boyish, moviestar handsomeness, but the surface gloss had begun to crack. There were lines of tension in his face, and his hands never stopped moving. He seemed to be under some extraordinary tension. When Elizabeth asked about Anna, Walther was vague. “Anna’s not feeling well. She couldn’t come.”

“Is it anything serious?”

“No, no. She’ll be fine. She’s at home, resting.”

“I’ll call her and—”

“Better not to disturb her.”

It was a puzzling conversation, totally unlike Walther, whom Elizabeth had always found so open and outgoing.

She brought up the subject of Emil Joeppli. “We need what he’s working on very badly,” Elizabeth said.

Walther nodded. “It’s going to be big.”

“I’ve asked him not to report to you anymore,” Elizabeth told him.

Walther’s hands suddenly went very still. It was like a shout. He looked at Elizabeth and asked, “Why did you do that?”

“It has nothing to do with you, Walther. I would have done exactly the same thing with any other board member working with him. I simply want to handle this my own way.”

He nodded. “I see.” But his hands remained motionless on the table. “You have a right, of course.” He forced a smile and she could see what it was costing him. “Elizabeth,” he said, “Anna has a lot of stock in the company. She can’t sell it unless you vote yes. It’s—it’s very important. I—”

“I’m sorry, Walther, I can’t let the stock be sold now.”

His hands suddenly began to move again.

 

 

CHAPTER 24

 

Herr Julius Badrutt was a thin, brittle man who resembled a praying mantis in a black suit He was like a stick figure drawn by a child, with angular arms and legs, and a dry, unfinished face sketched on top of his body. He was seated stiffly at the conference table of the Roffe and Sons boardroom, facing Elizabeth. There were five other bankers with him. They all wore black suits with waistcoats, white shirts and dark ties. They appeared, Elizabeth thought, not so much dressed as in uniform. Looking around at the cold, impassive eyes at the table, Elizabeth was filled with a sense of misgiving. Before the meeting had begun, Kate had brought in a tray of coffee and delicious, freshly baked pastries. The men had all declined. Just as they had declined Elizabeth’s invitation to come to lunch. She decided it was a bad sign. They were there to get the money that was owed them.